In Spite Of
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: In spite of loosing the Defying Gravity solo to Rachel, Kurt still manages to win. At least in the eyes of his father.


**In Spite Of**

Title: In Spite Of  
Author: Jen  
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt, Burt  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers:  
Summary: In spite of loosing the Defying Gravity solo to Rachel, Kurt still manages to win.

* * *

Kurt was starting to regret telling his father he'd intentionally blown the note. Initially, he'd gotten the response he'd expected. He would have been worried if his father wasn't just a bit angry, because his father had gone out on a leg for him, and Kurt knew there was significance attached to the way his father had fought for him to have the right to compete against Rachel for the part. Anger was a given, even from someone like Burt Hummel who didn't get truly angry over much.

Then, as Kurt had explained why, the predictable sadness had come, which Kurt had also braced for. The disappointment, not in Kurt, but in other people, was so blatant on his father's face that it made Kurt's stomach clench a little. His father was upset, and confused and a little unsure of what to make of it all.

But ultimately the love and appreciation had come, and as they'd worked together on the raised car for the next twenty minutes, Kurt had expected that to be the end of it. His father was proud of him, loved him, and solo or no solo, nothing was going to change it.

Still, prepared to go home, and free of his grease stained coveralls, Kurt couldn't completely dodge the looks coming his way from his father, and he was starting to regret the entire confession. His father looked a little like he might cry, which seemed unfathomable, and not just because Kurt was the crier in the family. There was also hesitation in the way he moved, and the narrowing of his eyes. Kurt wasn't sure what to make of it, at least not until he was standing to the side as his father pulled the garage's security grate down.

That was the moment his father asked, "You could've won it, right?"

The question caught Kurt for a moment and he frowned, feeling his forehead wrinkle. "The part?"

Burt's head dipped.

"I was a little surprised I didn't win it anyway, even with the way I blotched the note," Kurt said with a laugh. "I was up against Rachel. I'm not winning any popularity contests, but against her …" he trailed off, feeling the sting of his own words. After all, he wasn't Rachel's friend, but he knew what it felt like to be ostracized and hurt by the words of others. He knew on a daily basis, and felt empathy for her … despite how much she annoyed him.

"You said you hit that note? That high one?"

Kurt fell into step next to his father, folding happily into the arm his father laid casually across his shoulders as they walked to the nearby SUV.

"The high F," Kurt reminded him. "I hit it in the music room when I was practicing. So it stands to reason I would have been able to hit it during the competition." And god he had wanted to. His palms had itched so badly, and his eyes had burned with shame. It was more than just embarrassing to him, and he was certain several people in the room had known right away that he'd forced his voice to the misstep. "The note is well within my range."

His father hummed a response and Kurt was certain he felt the older man's fingers tighten at his shoulder. "I want to hear it."

Kurt might have tripped if his father's strong arm hadn't been there, and he sputtered a little, asking, "You want to hear it? The note?"

"The song," Burt said easily, relinquishing his hold on Kurt to slide into the vehicle. "What's it called?"

It took Kurt a few moments to heave himself into the SUV and his hands were shaking so badly he wasn't sure he could get the seatbelt into place until he felt his father's hand settle over his. Then his eyes were jerking up suddenly and he felt breathless.

"Kurt," his father said quietly. "I want to hear the song. I want to hear you sing it, and you have to hit that note."

His father's hand was heavy and calloused against Kurt's own soft, almost small hand, but Kurt felt anything but suffocated by the grip. Instead he swallowed hard and said, "You want me to sing Defying Gravity to you?"

The hand lifted away and Burt said a bit darkly, "I feel like a …" he paused and took a deep breath. "I think I let you down Kurt."

"How?" Kurt demanded, willing himself to breathe evenly. "You went down to the school and made Principal Figgins give me a shot at the song. I'm the one who deliberately threw it away."

Fidgeting, Burt slid the baseball cap off his head and then fitted it back on, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Tensely, he told Kurt, "Kids aren't supposed to protect their parents from other people and what they might say. You shouldn't have had to blow that note. You shouldn't-"

"I did it because I wanted to," Kurt argued, distressed at the look on his father's face. "I told you. I love you more than I love being a star. I wasn't lying. I … there will be other parts for me. It's not that big of a deal. Really, it isn't, dad."

Burt only cleared his throat and Kurt wondered why he felt like he was fighting an already lost battle.

They drove home in relative silence, Kurt leaning against the passenger side door and pretending not to notice the way his father's eyes kept jerking over to him.

It was late by the time they were home, and Kurt was heading right to his bedroom when his father called out, "You got the sheet music to that song?"

Kurt paused, wondering why they were back on the subject. "Yes," he offered hesitantly. "I needed it to practice, but it turned out I wasn't very good at playing and singing at the same time. I think I need to concentrate on one or the other, and not split my attention between the two of them."

"Go get it," Burt urged, giving Kurt a gentle push.

By the time Kurt emerged from the basement with his sheet music he was feeling flustered and less than confident. He tried to tell his father again, "I can't play and sing at the same time."

Burt plucked the sheet music out of Kurt's pale fingers and said, "I've got that covered." That was how Kurt found himself sitting at the piano next to his father.

"I-" Kurt started.

"You took lessons," Burt told him good naturedly, "mostly because your mom got too sick to teach you. But I never too lessons. She taught me to play."

Kurt felt his heart thundering in his chest and he barely managed, "Mom taught you how to play the piano?"

"Junior year," Burt recalled fondly, smiling genuinely at Kurt. "I kind of begged her. You know, I was just this dumb jock, and I was kind of in love with her, but I didn't think she'd give me the time of day. When I found out she played the piano, I asked her to teach me." Laughing a little, Burt confessed, "I didn't care about the piano, but it got me sitting next to her three days a week after school, and every other weekend. I think she knew right from the beginning that I didn't want to play, but she put up with me anyway, god knows why."

"But," Kurt said, searching for the right words, "you never play."

With a shrug, Burt ran his fingers over the keys. "Next to you, the piano reminds me the most of her. It's kind of painful, you know? She loved playing the piano, and sure, it took a backseat to you any day of the week, but it was a passion of hers."

Softly, Kurt asked, "Does it hurt you when I play?" He didn't play often, but once or twice a month he'd be sitting at the piano, practicing and his father would stroll by. Now that Kurt thought about it, his father never lingered, and never commented afterwards. Kurt had always assumed that it was yet another thing that his father didn't understand about him.

"No." The answer was definite in a way that put Kurt at ease. Burt cleared his throat and said, "I'll try not to make too many mistakes, okay? But don't stop if I do. I want to hear it all the way through." Fingers poised over the keys, Burt seemed daring Kurt to try and back out.

After a moment, Kurt gave him a small smile. "Okay. I promise, I won't."

His father began to play, flawless in a way that shouldn't have been possible, and Kurt sung along immediately. His shoulder pressed against his father's, his feet crossed at the ankles and Kurt knew in an instance that sitting there, singing as his father played his accompaniment, was better than anything Glee could have ever hoped to achieve. Rachel could have her solo, Kurt had his father.


End file.
